


Familiar Superb Owl

by Jackie_Gaytona



Series: What We Create in October (but in November) [1]
Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, M/M, Nandor's Twilight Mug, Superb Owl, WWC2020, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, himbo!Nandor, himbomania, prompt list
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackie_Gaytona/pseuds/Jackie_Gaytona
Summary: Small fic for prompt #1 and #2 of the What We Create in October prompt list that we put together last month, which I am doing in November! Yay!The house gets a surprise visit from the Superb Owl, and Nandor reflects on Guillermo's ass.Fanart included!
Relationships: Guillermo de la Cruz/Nandor the Relentless, Laszlo Cravensworth/Nadja
Series: What We Create in October (but in November) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017477
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57





	Familiar Superb Owl

“Guillermo! Guillermo! Come quick!” Nandor is rushing down the narrow hallway leading from the back door, his shoulders hitting the walls with his wild gait while his cape snaps up tendrils of stripped wallpaper. At one point he knocks over a candle with a flailing arm, the shock of the fall instantly snuffing out the wick, and the hallway descends into darkness. Moments after, a short, stout silhouette breaks up his line of vision. He stops almost as comically as the _Road Runner_ , tilting back on his heels before righting himself. Even in the dark he can see Guillermo’s face clearly enough, but if he couldn’t, he’d still be able to hear the panic in the man’s panting breaths and thundering heartbeat.

“W-what is it?” Guillermo gasps. It’s obvious he’s dropped whatever he was doing in order to be at his master’s side, to ensure his master is safe and has everything he needs. Nandor tamps down on the affection that swells in his chest. Now is not the time for feely-feels, at least not where Guillermo is concerned! No; all of his admiration must be channelled into the magnificent creature that is currently perched atop the tallest tree in the yard. Awaiting its people. Its ceremony.

“My celebratory cape, Guillermo! Hurry!”

“Huh? Which…which one is that?”

“HURRY!”

“ _Yesmasterofcourse_.” Guillermo dashes off, head bowed subserviently. Such a good familiar, thinks Nandor. His eyes, perfectly designed for night vision, can’t help but stare absently at the sway of his human’s ass as he thinks about how acquiescent the man is. He would be the perfect familiar if only he didn’t have such a nice ass. It is very distracting, having an attractive familiar.

“ _Shit!”_ he hisses, breaking out of Guillermo’s brazen ass-hypnosis. He must get the others!

The four housemates, sans Colin Robinson who was not invited, are huddled around the towering fir at the far end of the backyard. Thirty feet above them, barely perceptible through the criss-cross of branches and fine curtain of fir needles, sits a beautiful, huge snowy owl. Even with his impressive vision, Nandor can only just make out the small triangle of its beak and the great ruffle of feathers that make up its body and wings, but not much else. It seems as though it hasn’t noticed them yet, which is good, as it would have been a little embarrassing had the owl seen Nandor run inside to get changed.

Laszlo is dressed in his stately top hat, though it’s tilted away from his forehead as he squints up through the light snow. His mouth is twisted in a grimace of slight vexation; the owl is _really_ high.

“Should we…should we call to it?” Nadja whispers. She is wearing her best furs.

“You don’t want to frighten it,” Guillermo replies, matching her soft tone.

“The superb owl is not easily frightened!” Nandor booms. He sticks a finger towards it, putting his whole shoulder and arm into the thrust. Far above them, the owl moves a fraction, as if startling. But it stays put, and Nandor grins. He is sure he has its attention now; in fact, he is sure he can see its face staring wisely down at them from its great height.

“Should we fly to it?” Laszlo suggests, circling the tree for a better view.

“ _No_ ,” Nandor hisses. “We do not want it to seem like we are asserting our dominance! We are beneath the great Superb Owl.”

Guillermo has been standing in the same spot since he followed Nandor out here, his face set in a thoughtful frown as he tries to make heads and tails of the creature. With such faint illumination, it’s something of a puzzle, what with the dark branches and spindly needles and round pinecones blocking the ball of white feathers.

“Why must it sit so far away?” Nadja whispers.

“It prefers the highest perches,” Nandor says proudly. There weren’t many perches higher than his furry tree! Guillermo starts to shiver, and Nandor decides to get on with the ceremony before his human catches the colds. He puffs out his chest, balls his fists against his hips, and cranes his head back. “GREETINGS, MIGHTY SUPERB OWL. WE ARE BUT YOUR HUMBLE SERVANTS, HERE TO CELEBRATE YOUR VISITATION WITH GIFTS OF… _Guillermo!_ Where are the gifts?”

Guillermo does not bother correcting his master’s poor word choice. He holds out a handful of oats. “Oats,” he says.

“WE BRING YOU…ERR… _Guillermo how many oats are there_?”

“I don’t know…fifty?”

“Fifty oats?” Nandor scoffs. How can Guillermo know that? He _cannot_ know that, because humans are not good at counting. Nandor lets out a petulant huff and clasps Guillermo’s wrist tightly. “Give me the oats,” he says, tipping Guillermo’s hand to empty the flat round grains into his own big palm. He is in such a rush that he does not notice his proximity to Guillermo, but later he will reflect on why his good familiar’s blood was rushing so fast behind glowing cheeks.

Nandor begins to finger each oat thoughtfully.

“The fuck are you doing?” Laszlo interrupts.

“I am counting the oats, Laszlo, and you have interrupted me! Now I have to start again!”

Nadja lets out an audible groan and rolls her eyes.

“Can you even count past ten?” Laszlo scoffs.

“Six…seven…nine…” Nandor hisses suddenly, baring his fangs. “EFF-WHY-EYE, LASZLO, I can count to…Guillermo what is the biggest number?”

“Err…a googol, I think?” Guillermo’s voice is very small. Either he is trying to keep back laughter, or is terrified of another outburst. Nandor just looks at him like the man has started to malfunction.

“I can count very high!” he decides, and then begins to count the oats again.

“Well you better bloody hurry up or our friend there is going to fly somewhere higher!” Nadja snaps, pointing upwards.

Nandor gets to work, furrowing his brow with the importance of the task. “One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…nine…ten…eleven…twelve..thirteen…fifteen…seventeen…eighteen…twenty…”

“Master, maybe I should--”

“FUCK’S SAKE, _GUILLERMO_!” Nandor shouts, almost tossing the grains into the air in the process. “Let me finish counting the _fucking oats_!!”

“Sorry, Master.”

“Oh! Oh!” Laszlo pipes up suddenly. “It moved! The owl moved!” That catches all of their attention, even Nandor’s. The owl has shuffled a little and now looks down at them. Though it’s hard to make out its eyes, Nandor is sure he sees a large beady pupil staring down at him, into his very soul. The owl’s face is obscured by branches but he can make out the tips of two devilish ear-tufts. _What a magnificent, awe-inspiring creature_ , he thinks in delight, picking his brain for the biggest descriptive words he knows.

“Yes, hello, Mister Superb Owl!” Nadja calls up in an awkward voice. Nandor wants to hiss at her because he still hasn’t counted the oats, but instead he decides to use this diversion to quickly go through them again. “We are very honoured to have you sit in our tree!”

“Y-yes,” Laszlo concurs, coming to stand beside his lady wife. It takes him a moment to spot the white blob again. “Is there anything you’d like us to do? Is-is there something you must tell us?”

“Twenty-three!” Nandor announces. “There are twenty-three oats, Mister Superb Owl! Would you like us to bring them to you?”

Guillermo keeps his mouth shut, knowing full-well that there are at _least_ fifty oats in Nandor’s meaty paw, even if he dropped quite a few while trying to count them.

The wind picks up and rustles through the fir’s needles. Branches creak and whine, and the owl drifts up before alighting gently on its branch again. Such a majestic sight. Nandor’s dead heart seems to revive itself in a swell of emotion.

“I think he would like us to bring them to him,” he says privately to Guillermo.

Guillermo, the simple, trifling (yet attractive) human he is, does not seem convinced. He is still looking up at the owl, his brow furrowed in uncertainty. He blinks, shakes his head a little, and hums. “Uh, Master? I’m not sure—”

“Quiet, Guillermo!” Nandor snaps. He does not need his familiar to come party-pooping all over the marvellous occasion. He turns to the others. “Laszlo? Nadja? Let us carefully and respectfully approach the superb owl. Remember to keep your head bowed and eyes averted at all times, until the owl says otherwise.”

Nadja and Laszlo nod in unison, their eyes wide with anticipation. Nandor allows them a paltry sprinkling of oats, but keeps the majority of them himself to denote his leadership. They lift effortlessly off their feet and begin weaving through the branches. Nandor gets caught in a few, and by the time the superb owl comes into view in his periphery, his hair is matted with needles and crowned with a single pinecone that has somehow become tangled in his luscious locks.

They avert their eyes as they come to hover beneath the superb owl. Nandor can see the indistinct white creature in the corner of his eye as it shifts on its branch. Gingerly he lifts his hand, and its offering of oats, towards the magnificent creature.

“Mister Superb Owl; we, your humble servants, bring to you gifts of twenty-three oats,” he intones, head bowed. “Please accept our offering, and anything else we may have that you desire.”

“We have carrots,” Laszlo supplies in a mumble.

“Owls don’t eat bloody carrots!” Nadja hisses at her feet. “Nandor, it is not pecking the oats. We should have brought it a rat! Owls eat rats!”

“Uh…huh…darling…”

“Not now, Laszlo, I am having words with Mister stupid Oat-Man over here!”

“Nandor?” Laszlo tries again.

“Guillermo would _never_ offer the superb owl something that owls do not eat!” Nandor hisses back in a hurt tone. “He is a good familiar!”

“He iS A gOod FaMiLiAr,” Nadja mocks, “I told you, Nandor, he is trying to kill us—”

“It’s not—” Laszlo pipes up for a third time, but is knocked down again.

“—he wants the owl to attack us!”

“Shh, Nadja! Don’t say that in front of our esteemed guest!”

“IT’S NOT THE SUPERB OWL.” Laszlo shouts. “IT’S NOT EVEN A BLOODY OWL.”

Nandor snaps his head up automatically, and the white shape comes into full view. It is transparent, almost gossamer, as it catches the breeze and tries to break free of the jagged branch it’s snagged on. It makes a light rustling noise each time it’s lifted.

“What is that?” Nadja asks curiously. “An apparition?”

Nandor’s stomach drops. His lips curl back into a grimace of chagrin, showing the tips of his fangs. He reaches out with a growl and snatches the ‘superb owl’ from its dainty perch, eliciting a small gasp from Nadja. If he could blush, he’d be bright red right now.

“Guillermo!” he yells down at his familiar. Guillermo is already dutifully looking up at them. “What the fuck is this?” He gives the crumpled object a violent shake for good measure.

Guillermo’s small voice drifts up to them. “That’s a—err—that’s a plastic bag, Master.”

Nadja and Laszlo look on with equal expressions of curiosity and repulsion.

“Huh…” Nadja says.

***************

Guillermo finds Nandor on the roof – the house’s dedicated moping area. He is splayed on his back, arms behind his head, staring up at a moon that is struggling to break through heavy snow clouds. The human has been up here so many times that he could walk blindfolded, so it’s easy enough to reach his master even while carrying two scalding mugs.

“Here,” he says, catching the vampire’s attention. Nandor sits up half-heartedly as Guillermo hands him his mug. It was a random gift from Guillermo, and one that Nandor didn’t even complain about. In fact, his face had positively lit up when Guillermo brought it home and gave it to him; though not as much as when Guillermo had told him, rather smugly, that he’d even be able to _drink_ from it.

Nandor takes the mug now, which has a photo of Edward Cullen’s face wrapped around it, and Guillermo does not miss the fleeting twitch of an appreciative smile on the vampire’s face. He glances down at the steaming blood within, though the usual hunger in his eyes has been doused with disappointment. Guillermo feels a pang of sympathy for his poor, stupid, lovable master. He sits down next to him, keeping a human-sized space between them while trying to hide the longing that is probably written all over his face.

Nandor looks at Guillermo’s own drink in a silent question, and Guillermo can’t help but grin. “Camomile tea,” he says bashfully. Another reason he likes to bring Nandor hot drinks is because his master will ask him what he is drinking, and he usually never asks Guillermo about anything. As much as Nandor thinks he knows Guillermo, he really doesn’t…in so many ways. But he pushes that thought aside and continues. “Camomile is my favourite for bedtime. It makes me sleepy.”

“What is your favourite for not-bedtimes?” Nandor asks in a timid mumble.

Guillermo takes a sip of his tea and closes his eyes, basking in the warmth and taste and much-needed attention. “Assam bold,” he says finally. “Keeps me awake when I don’t feel like coffee.”

Nandor hums and takes a sip of his warm blood.

“I’m sorry about the owl,” Guillermo says gently. He clutches his mug and shivers as a gust of cold wind hits him. It seems to go straight through him, chilling him to the core despite his thick layers of clothing. He almost lets loose a small, languishing whine as the mental picture of snuggling up to Nandor comes unbidden to his head.

Nandor must notice something change in his familiar’s demeanour, or perhaps he just picks up on the cold, because he gingerly shifts an inch towards him. Guillermo sees it for what it is: an invitation, and he immediately scoots to his master’s side, careful not to touch any of his clothing ( _especially_ his fancy celebratory cape which looks no different from his other capes).

“You know,” Guillermo says thoughtfully, before taking another sip of his steaming beverage, “I do know how you can meet an owl. Maybe not _the_ superb owl, but an owl nonetheless.” He hazards a glance at his master, who is staring at him with eyes that are literally sparkling. Guillermo wants to start crying at how adorable his vampire is. All it would take is a tiny little shift of his upper body, a tiny lean forward, and he could give him a kiss, or lay his head on his shoulder, or nuzzle the crook of his neck and breathe in all his sweet and tangy and homely scents.

Instead, he gives him a little smile and takes another sip of his tea, before saying, “I hear they do night tours at the zoo. Want to finally hold an owl?”

“Yes!” Nandor gasps, jerking his hands up as if to clap and almost spilling his blood in the process. “Yes that would be good, Guillermo!”

Guillermo chuckles and blushes, his eyes on his tea. When Nandor removes a hand from his mug and pats his familiar on the knee chummily, Guillermo almost jumps ten feet into the air. Nandor doesn’t seem to notice. He’s still grinning.

“You are a good familiar,” he says decidedly, which only makes the human’s cheeks burn brighter. “A _great_ familiar. Even with your ass-hypnosis.”

Guillermo looks at him with a confused frown, “…huh?”

But Nandor is just beaming like an idiot.

[](https://ibb.co/2Z9cKCW)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fic which was inspired by the time I was gushing over two adorable bunnies in the middle of the road only to realise they were discarded McDonald’s paper bags.  
> Don’t litter, yo!


End file.
